


First Date

by neuv



Series: Thirty, Flirty and Thriving [1]
Category: Deadpool (Movieverse), Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Bottom Peter Parker, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Top Wade Wilson, Touch-Starved, Wade Wilson Needs A Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:53:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27957938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neuv/pseuds/neuv
Summary: Peter Parker has everything. He's in his early thirties, he has an awesome condo, an amazing day job, an even more amazing night gig fighting crime, and a wonderful cat named Peaches. The only thing missing is someone to share it with.Tom Holland Peter Parker (early thirties) and Movie Wade Wilson (mid forties).(We just love to see a thriving Peter Parker with a well-established life!)
Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Series: Thirty, Flirty and Thriving [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2047550
Comments: 4
Kudos: 231





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ((white boxes))  
> [[yellow boxes]]

Aunt May and Peter Parker haven’t lived together in a long time, but make it a point to still get together about once a week and have dinner. Peter is often busy with work, as he’s a biomedical engineer at Stark Industries. He also regularly teams up with the Avengers, and still manages to make time for vigilante work as your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man. Given his busy schedule, sometimes they miss a week, or two, but they do try their best to meet up every week. 

It’s been one of those months where Peter has missed a few weeks with Aunt May. It’s a bitterly cold Thursday night at the end of January, and he curses himself mentally for forgetting a pair of gloves as he shoves his hands further in the pockets of his woolen coat.

Peter trudges up the steps to Aunt May’s apartment, the one he lived in during high school. Still in possession of a key, he lets himself inside and calls out, “I’m here!” before closing and shutting the door. He wipes his feet on the mat in the entryway before taking off his coat and boots. 

Aunt May peeks out into the foyer from the kitchen, grinning as she spots Peter by the door. “Peter! It’s been way too long...”

Peter shakes his head with a smile, coming into the kitchen to give her a hug. “I know, May. I promise I’ll try to be quicker about next time.”

Aunt May kisses his cheek and heads back to the stovetop to finish up dinner. “That’s all I ask, Peter. Just try your best. I know you’re a busy guy.” 

Peter sits down at the counter and asks, “What’s cooking?”

“Spaghetti! It’s almost done,” she replies easily. 

Peter watches her as she strains the pasta and turns off the burners. She grabs a couple plates and forks out of her cupboards and helps herself to a portion. Peter follows suit and does the same. 

They sit down at the table together, making easy conversation. They catch each other up on how work is going, and how the last few weeks have been. Before he knows it, the inevitable happens, “So, Valentine’s Day is coming up.”

“Uh-huh,” Peter replies.

“Meet anyone lately?” Aunt May asks.

“Aunt May... seriously?” he deadpans.

“You can’t blame me. It’s been almost a year since I’ve pried into your love life and you’re in your thirties now, Peter. I just worry about you.”

“First of all, I’m barely in my thirties, and second of all, that’s honestly what you’re worried about? Not the whole crime fighting thing, but this?” he sets down his fork, now finished with his dinner.

“You can’t blame me. I don’t want to see you alone...” she crosses her arms and presses her lips into a straight line, concern obvious on her face. 

Peter sighs and looks up at the ceiling for a moment as he gathers his thoughts. They’ve skirted around this topic for years, and he’s never been very straightforward with her. “You know I can’t be with anyone like that, May. Let’s just forget about it.”

Normally, this is the part of the conversation where May would drop it, and move on. But Peter is 31 now and can handle it, so she presses further, “I actually don’t know, Peter. Care to elaborate?”

“I can’t put anyone in danger like that. Not again...” he trails off, remembering Gwen, which ended in tragedy during high school, and MJ, which ended in chaos during college. “Besides, even if I found a resilient partner who could fend for themselves and not worry about them being in harm’s way, I don’t have time for anyone. It’s not fair to them.”

May uncrosses her arms and puts a hand on one of Peter’s. “Promise me that you’ll still try. You’ll try to find someone who can fit in your life.” 

Peter rolls his eyes and says, “No promises here, Aunt May. Besides, I’ve got Peaches.” 

“Your cat is great and all, but that’s not the same, Petey.” 

“...and I have my super friends,” he says lamely. 

“Do you actually hang out with them... you know... outside of work?” she asks. 

“Well... no. Not really. Except Deadpool. We are known to grab a bite to eat while on patrol.” Peter Parker’s identity is still very much a secret, even to the other supers. With Tony Stark long gone, not a soul knew who he was except Aunt May and Ned, who was currently living in the Seattle, Washington area.

“So does Peter have any friends?” she pries. 

“I still chat with Ned. And sometimes I get beers with the guys at the lab...”

Aunt May frowns and pats his hand. She gives up for now, but still worries about Peter’s loneliness. She knows her nephew is a catch, and wishes she could get through to him on the importance of companionship. “Well, that’s something,” she says finally. 

May clears the table, and the pair move to the living room, where they decide to play a game of cribbage. 

Peter spends the better part of a couple hours over at her house, and, again, promises her to be quicker about coming back. 

He decides to take a taxi home. It isn’t long before he makes it to his condo in Brooklyn. He greets his orange tabby cat, Peaches, with a gentle scruff of the fur on her head. 

His place is modest, but neat, tidy and clean. It’s a simple two bedroom, one bath condo. It’s a far cry from many of the other dwellings he’s had since the apartment he shared with Aunt May in Queens. Now with a stable job and most of his student loan debt paid off, he’s able to afford a place comparable to where he grew up. 

His saving grace on keeping his job was the very lenient attendance policy in the labs at Stark Industries. Wanting to further research in several disciplines like clean energy, biomedical technology, and engineering, Tony Stark, and his successor Bruce Banner, adapted a laboratory culture focused on successful work driven by employee happiness. As long as employees were on track with the team, they were able to set their own hours. Knowing that scientific breakthroughs frequently ebbed and flowed in workload, this allowed scientists to have long nights when needed, and adequate time to crash out when the coffee ran dry and the eureka moment was over. Stark Industries fueled their researchers with other employee perks like free breakfast, lunch and dinner. 

Needless to say, this revolutionary business model gave him the perfect opportunity to be able to be successful at work and still web-sling on the side. Peter loved his job, he loved his place, and his cat. He honestly felt pretty proud of himself, all things considered. 

“You think I should go out for a while?” he asks Peaches after taking off his coat and shoes. 

Peaches rubs her body against Peter’s leg, happy to see him. 

“No? Should I stay home with you for a while?” he asks her. 

She meows, as if affirming. 

Peter smiles at her and picks her up. “Okay. I’ll stay and watch one episode of Golden Girls before I go.” He kisses her on the top of the head and sets her back down, knowing she doesn’t like to be held for very long. 

Peter gets out a can of food for her, and freshens her water. He does a quick scoop of her litter box, and walks to the living room. He makes due on his promise and turns on an episode of Golden Girls. 

He flops down on his comfy leather couch and pulls his phone out of his jeans pocket. He decides to text Deadpool and see what he’s up to. 

**Spider-Man** : Hey, DP. Gonna head out after I finish this show. Team up? 

Peter had been patrolling with Deadpool for the better part of the last year. Deadpool had recently decided to turn a new leaf and join up with the Avengers, and he found himself in Peter’s company more and more often. Deadpool continued to accept mercenary work, but made it a point to stop “un-aliving” people (whenever possible). 

Like the other heroes, or anti-heroes, Peter knew, Deadpool had no idea who Spider-Man really was. On the same note, Peter had no idea what Deadpool’s identity was either. He knows Deadpool’s name is Wade, but nothing too personal besides the fact that he loves Mexican food and is incredibly inappropriate. 

**Deadpool** : sorry baby boy, im on a stakeout! what r u watching?

 **Spider-Man** : Golden Girls. 

**Deadpool** : gasp a spider after my own heart!!! see u tomorrow?

 **Spider-Man** : Sure. It’s a date. 

Peter suits up after finishing his episode, and spends a few hours patrolling the streets of New York City. Calling it quits after a, thankfully, slow night, he heads home to get some much needed rest. He’s got a couple days off at the lab, which means overtime for Spider-Man.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, team! A few minutes early, but here's chapter 2!
> 
> ((White Boxes))
> 
> [[Yellow Boxes]]

Peter wakes up the next day at a very reasonable one in the afternoon, and finds that he’s got some text notifications from Deadpool. 

**Deadpool** : hey, baby boy!! u think u could help me with a job? lots of bad guys, a warehouse trope ((lazy author am i right?)), illegal weapon dealing etc etc etc. sounds like ur sort of scene. there’s a cool 5k w ur name on it if u help me w these guys tonite. i can do it by myself but that will require un-aliving lotsa guys and i know u hate that 

**Deadpool** : i know this probably isn’t what u expected out of ur night but im also WAYY cool w keeping the 10k and killing some mofos. Ur choice!

 **Deadpool** : fuck. not like im like blackmailing u or something???? like ur choice as in u can decide not to come. not like ur choice as in “if u don’t do this these guys are gonna die and it’s all ur fault” 

**Deadpool** : although i guess that’s exactly what im saying isn’t it. sorry if u wanted our date to be rooftop tacos or st baby boy. ill make it up to u i swear. u can buy like five thousand tacos with the $$$$$$ 

**Deadpool** : neway lemme know by 8? i kno spiders are nocturnal [[we think?]] so i hope ur up by then 

**Deadpool** : but like don’t feel guilty if you wake up at like 9:30 or st. im only asking for help bc i don’t want to disappoint u, spidey!!!!!

Peter groans after catching up with Deadpool’s manic messages. He rubs the sleep out of his eyes and sits up in bed, trying to think about how he wants to respond. 

**Spider-Man** : How many bad guys are “a lot?”

It doesn’t take long at all for Deadpool to reply. 

**Deadpool** : idk like 15? 20? the warehouse ive been staking out has these HORRIBLE leaded windows. ((it’s almost like the author didn’t want me to know all the details, ya know?)) 

Peter shakes his head at the message, chuckling a little bit. He’ll never understand why the merc insistently talks to an “audience,” but it’s pretty funny most of the time. 

**Spider-Man** : Why is there a 10k payout? Who’s paying you?

 **Deadpool** : a less-bad guy [[still probably pretty bad though]] had all this shit stolen from him and he wants it back. so the weapons and drugs and other bad guy things need to be secured so he can pick them up and take them to a DIFFERENT shady warehouse. ((how are there so many abandoned warehouses in NYC anyway?))

Peter groans. Deadpool still managed to get himself stuck in many a moral grey-area, despite not “un-aliving” people anymore. 

**Spider-Man** : I’ll agree to help ONLY if you promise me we follow them after you complete the rendezvous. I want to keep tabs on the less-bad guys. 

**Deadpool** : sure thang, baby boy!!! whatever u say. <3 

Peter shakes his head at the response. He used to be slightly off-put when Deadpool called him pet names like “baby boy,” but he’s gotten used to it over time. It’s just another one of those things that makes Deadpool... Deadpool. 

During the brief text conversation, Peaches found her way in Peter’s lap, contentedly purring as he scratched her head. “I guess I should feed you breakfast, huh Peachy? I’m surprised you didn’t wake me up to feed you earlier.”

Peter stretches out his sleep-stiff limbs and gets out of bed. He rolls his shoulder a couple times, muttering, “It’s amazing what hurts me now. Sleep wrong? Shoulder is sore for hours, even with the damn healing factor...”

He makes his way to the kitchen, giving Peaches some kibble in her bowl before perusing his options for his own breakfast. He settles on making a scramble with chopped bacon, and some leftover peppers and onions from his dinner the other night. He hums to himself as he cooks, eventually deciding to fill his apartment with some music. 

After eating, he spends his afternoon playing video games and relaxing. He knows he’s got a long night ahead of him, so he tries to keep his first day off as lazy as he can until then. 

Before he knows it, the fun times are over and it’s time to suit up and head out. He meets Deadpool on a roof he’s been using to stakeout the warehouse the past few days. 

Beating him there and knowing Deadpool can’t keep time to save his life, Peter makes himself a flimsy web-hammock and waits for him to arrive. 

Eventually, Peter hears the unmistakable huffing of a frustrated Deadpool hoisting himself over the ledge of the roof. 

“For you, baby boy!” Deadpool says as he holds out a crushed bouquet of flowers over Peter’s body. 

Peter takes it from Deadpool, scratching his head in response. “Thank you... but why?” he asks. 

“For our date, silly! Momma ‘Pool always told me to bring a first date flowers or chocolates, especially if they’re a catch like you. I wasn’t raised by a pack of wolverines, Webs,” Deadpool sounds exasperated, as if this should all be common knowledge. 

“Well... thanks.” Peter knows that explaining to Deadpool that ‘It’s a date’ is just an expression is a lost cause, so he drops it at that. “I’ll just leave them here and pick them up when we’re done. I think I have a vase somewhere at home...”

Peter sits up and gets off the hammock, setting the bouquet in it in his stead. “How did you get up here anyway? There’s no fire escape that I saw...”

“Scaled the building. There’s lots of ledges and uneven bricks,” Deadpool responds in a matter-of-fact sort of way.

“How do you get down..?”

Deadpool shrugs before replying, “Jump off. Sometimes break my legs.” 

“Ah. I’m not interested in waiting for your legs to heal, so feel free to piggyback on the way down...” Peter offers.

“Great!! There’s a convenient skylight window that’s precariously always cracked open over there,” Deadpool points to the south side of the warehouse across the street. “More lazy writing,” he mutters to himself before saying more concisely for Spider-Man, “and I’m pretty sure there’s some exposed beam-work right below it. So plenty of opportunity to sneak in and grab a bunch of guys before they notice something’s wrong in typical Spider-Man fashion. Should be cake!” 

Deadpool and Peter chat logistics a little while longer before Deadpool, as promised, hitches a ride to the roof of the warehouse on Spider-Man’s back. 

They sneak into the skylight, and as expected, Spider-Man is able to web up the first few henchmen without anyone noticing. After Bad Guy #4 ((as he’s named in the end credits)) is webbed up, the other henchmen take notice and start to rush the area they’re in. 

Deadpool was dead wrong. Peter estimates some fifty something men are rushing toward them. “Fuck!” Deadpool exclaims. “I thought we were playing on Friendly difficulty, not Spectacular.” 

Cover blown, Deadpool ignores potential stray bullets and starts disarming henchmen with his katanas. Spider-Man follows suit and starts webbing enemies. After a hot minute, back-up arrives, and another onslaught of henchmen joins the rapidly depleting first wave. 

“Scratch that,” Deadpool exclaims after shooting someone in the foot. “I think we’re playing Ultimate mode, Spidey.” Deadpool has started to get a little more aggressive with the not un-aliving, opting for slightly more maiming than Peter would like. 

After some time, the pair finish disarming all the henchmen, and Deadpool secures the stolen goods. Peter, apparently shot during the scuffle, puts pressure onto his left bicep with his hand. 

“Ugh,” Peter exclaims. “I have no idea how we’re supposed to follow these guys if I can’t web-sling, Deadpool. I mean... I probably can still web-sling, but not fast enough to follow...”

Peter tentatively tries to raise his left arm, yelling, “Damn it! Scratch that, I can’t do it.” 

Deadpool frowns under his mask. “Sorry I can’t hold up my end of the bargain, Webs. That looks pretty serious, though. I know I looked like Swiss cheese earlier, but your little healing factor isn’t the same as mine. Do you live far?” he asks surprisingly politely. 

“Yeah. Probably an hour in a taxi? Takes me only a few minutes if I could web-sling...” Peter says wistfully. 

“Meet me on that stakeout roof. I need to finish this job, but I have a safe house nearby and can help patch you up. Don’t want you to get an infection, baby boy!” 

Peter contemplates it for a moment, saying, “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Deadpool...”

“Spider-Babe. Come on. I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I wasn’t always blessed with a healing ability. I promise I’ve dressed my fair share of gunshot wounds. See you in a few minutes!” 

Peter sighs and makes his way back to his pathetic web-hammock, setting his crushed flowers on the roof so he can sit down. He briefly weighs the pros and cons of going to a safe house with Deadpool, and decides he could use the extra hands after all. Peter has dressed a few gunshot wounds himself, and knows not being able to use both hands hinders that process a lot. 

As Peter sits in the hammock and patiently waits for Deadpool to return, he wonders what he’s gotten himself into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! More to come on Tuesday. The sequel is just about wrapped up and I'm currently drafting the third piece. :)


	3. Chapter 3

“Oh Spider-Man, oh Spider-Man, let down your long web!” is what breaks Peter out of his train of thought. 

Peter, grabbing his sad bouquet with the hand belonging to his uninjured arm, leans over the ledge of the roof. He calls down to Deadpool, “Just a sec!” 

Spider-Man walks down the side of the building to meet Deadpool on the sidewalk. 

“It’s about two blocks away. I hope you didn’t lose much blood waiting for me, baby boy,” Deadpool explains as he starts walking toward his safe house. He doesn’t wait up for Peter, and just expects the younger man to follow him. 

Peter quickly falls into stride with Deadpool. “I wonder what people must think, just seeing us casually walk down the sidewalk together.”

“Well, Spidey, I always walk casually down the sidewalk, so it’s not that weird. Not all of us have amazing spider powers.” Deadpool takes this opportunity to tap Peter’s nose with an index finger. “Some of us have to walk from place to place.” 

Peter contemplates that for a moment, saying, “Okay, you’ve got me there.” 

The pair make light conversation, as they always do. Peter begins to think about the talk he had with May the day before, and begins to realize that he can honestly consider Deadpool one of his closest friends. 

As they make their way to the safe house, Deadpool pulls out a key ring with a surprisingly large amount of house keys. Peter quickly counts a little over a half dozen as Deadpool unlocks the front door. 

The safe house is nicer than Peter expects it to be. It’s not great, but it’s comparable to some of the apartments Peter rented as a young adult in his early twenties. It’s a run down studio with an old couch, queen sized bed, and modest television set. Probably something from the late 2000s or early 2010s, so pretty ancient in terms of modern technology. All of the furniture looks like freebies, and the apartment seems mostly unused. 

“Take a seat on the couch, baby boy. I’ll be with you in a second.”

Peter does as he’s asked. He hears the water run for a little bit in the bathroom and Deadpool emerges honestly quicker than Peter expects. He’s got a first aid kit in tow, and his costume gloves are replaced with a pair of nitrile. 

Deadpool sits down next to Peter and asks, “Are the suit and mask attached?”

“Nope. Separate pieces. If I had known the job was so risky, I would have worn my iron spider suit and we wouldn’t be here,” Peter chides as he unzips the back with his good hand. 

“My bad, baby boy.” Deadpool assists Peter in gently removing the arm of his suit and revealing his injury. 

“This is all going to be pretty unpleasant, so I’m sorry about that. I know I’m a bit of a sadist but not like this,” Deadpool teases. 

“Well, I’m a bit of a masochist, but... also not like this,” Peter says lamely. 

Deadpool inspects the wound, and flushes it out with alcohol, making sure there’s no pieces of metal or other foreign substance. Finding the bullet, Wade pulls it out with a pair of tweezers, making Peter wince. “Now THAT’S interesting, baby boy.”

Wanting to change the subject, Peter quickly says, “So... if this is one of your many safe houses and it’s this nice, I can’t imagine how nice your real place is.”

“Well, I get my mail sent to Avenger’s Mansion if that’s what you’re wondering. You could live there, too, you know, if you needed to,” Deadpool offers.

“Oh, I know. I like my privacy too much, though.” Peter winces as Deadpool closes the wound with some butterfly stitches. 

“Ohhh. You’re doing the Suzy Homemaker life, aren’t you? Spider wife and some spider kids running around?” he asks. 

“Yeah. If by kids you mean my cat, and by wife, you mean my toy collection, then sure. That’s me, Suzy Homemaker,” Peter jokes. As he says it, he realizes he’s coming off as more pathetic than funny. However, that thought is quickly cast aside as Deadpool laughs heartily. 

“You kill me, Webs,” he says. 

“Why do you keep a first aid kit here, Deadpool?” Peter asks. “Your healing factor is so crazy, I couldn’t imagine why you’d need one.” 

“Simple... for team ups. I’ve never had to break one out until now, but I keep them around for situations like this, baby boy.” Deadpool pauses for a moment, before saying, “You know you can call me Wade, right? Like my name’s not a secret.” 

Peter hesitates for a while before saying, “Peter. And that is a secret. I swear I’ll figure out how to kill you if you tell anyone.” 

“Peter,” Wade repeats quietly with reverie. He wraps gauze around Peter’s arm, just in case he bleeds through the temporary stitches. “I think we’re all done here.” Wade doffs his bloody nitrile gloves, revealing his scarred hands underneath. Peter has seen them countless times. Wade used to be a little more hesitant about revealing skin around Peter, but enough stakeout dinners quickly changed that. 

“So, I’m sure this isn’t your first gunshot wound. How long until your healing factor kicks in?” Wade asks. 

“Oh... I should be just about right as rain by tomorrow night. Maybe some bruising and scabbing by then? But mostly healed. Especially thanks to my awesome medical care,” he replies.

“That’s still fucking badass, Petey Pie.”

Peter laughs at the new nickname. “Petey Pie? Seriously?” 

“Yes, it is very serious, Petey Pie. So, Mr. 24 Hours and We’re Good, the real question I have for you is do you want to crash out here? Healing a gunshot wound must be exhausting, and your other option is public transportation.”

Peter takes this offer seriously, briefly weighing the pros and cons before saying, “You know... I think I’ll take you up on that, Wade. I really don’t want Spider-Man to be seen on public transit with a bloody arm, looking pathetic. Spider-Man and public transit have never really coexisted before and I don’t want to start now...” 

“Yeah, you’re right. In this universe you’re too proud of yourself for that. I totally admire that, Mio Piccolo Pietro.” Wade waits a beat and continues, “No... Italian is not right for baby boy. Next.” 

“Do you literally just enjoy practicing nicknames for people?” Peter asks. 

“Only for you, Mi Pepitro! Spanish is so much better, don’t you think?”

“Actually, no. Please just stick to English, Wade,” Peter replies. 

“You got it, Hot Pe-tah-toe. Nope... that’s too much.” 

Peter shakes his head and slumps into the couch, getting more comfortable.

Deadpool exclaims, “Oh! Silly me! I’m not being very hospitable. Would you like something to eat or drink? Clothes that are more comfortable and not covered in spider blood?”

“Yes,” Peter replies. “All of that sounds great, actually.” He’s impressed that Wade keeps his safe houses so stocked up, honestly. 

“First, the clothes!” Wade jumps up off the couch, and puts away the first aid kit before heading to the closet. “T-shirt and PJ pants okay?” 

“Sounds great!”

“Perfect.” Wade throws the aforementioned items in Peter’s direction. “You okay with seeing a whole lot more of this wickedly disgusting crushed avocado skin?”

Peter picks up the items and sighs, turning to face Wade. “Wade. You’re not a leper and this isn’t 32 AD. It’s 2032 and fuck people who aren’t okay with physical differences. To answer your question,  _ please _ feel free to show me more skin. I’d be glad to see it.” 

“Aw, Petey Pie, you flatter me,” Wade starts to strip off his mercenary uniform, being careful to set knives, guns and other weapons on a nearby desk before taking off the actual leather outfit. 

Peter blushes fiercely under his mask, not expecting him to just strip out in the open. Although, thinking about it for a beat, Peter remembers that this is a studio. “U-Uh, Wade?”

“Yes my little spider?” he asks. 

“Is your bathroom big enough to change in? I uh... I don’t really have enough room under this suit for...” he clears his throat, clearly embarrassed, “underwear.” 

Wade gasps loudly, putting his hands over his still-masked face. “Peter Piper picked an outfit  _ so tight _ he had to go commando? Pinch me I’m  _ dreaming _ ! No  _ wonder _ why your ass looks especially out of this world when you go for the spandex.”

Peter blushes deeper, glad that Wade can’t see his face. Wade continues, “Sure Spider-Babe, let me just finish up here. So you’re okay with my ugly mug too, right? I’m not in the mood to sleep with a leather mask on. Even I’m not that kinky...” 

Peter is absolutely certain he’s a red as a tomato. He’s got to be. Without answering, he gets up and walks toward Wade, who is currently wearing grey boxer briefs, a white t-shirt and his Deadpool mask. Peter cups Wade’s face in his hands, and slowly lifts his mask up. He’s never seen Wade’s face before, but he has an idea what to expect. “You are not ugly, Wade.” 

Realizing he’s held Wade’s bare face for probably longer than he should have, Peter drops his hands back to his sides, and looks down at his feet. “Promise me you’ll stop berating your appearance around me.” 

“I’ll try my best, but I’ve looked like burnt pepperoni pizza for almost two decades now, so that’s a pretty big ask, Petey Pie.”

Peter looks back up at him, and says, “Well, as long as you try your best.” 

“Hold on, Peter, I have to make room for you in the bathroom!” Wade says before disappearing behind the door. 

Peter hears what he believes to be the sound of thin poly-vinyl plastic crinkling, and the sound of air rapidly releasing through a tiny valve.  _ That sounds like either an air mattress or a beach ball, _ Peter thinks. 

After some time, Deadpool emerges from the bathroom with three deflated blow-up dolls. 

“Do... I even want to know why?” Peter asks.

“There’s no hot tub here but there’s a really nice bathtub and I absolutely have to take advantage of that, Petey, so that’s why,” Wade replies as if his explanation should make sense to the younger man. 

“Okay... so is the bathroom good to go now?” 

“Yep! Nice and roomy for my Itsy Bitsy Spider!” Wade exclaims as he shoves the deflated blow-up dolls in the closet. 

“Perfect. I’ll be just a minute...” Peter says before disappearing in the bathroom. It’s definitely small, so he’s glad Wade removed the extra items to serve his purposes. Peter peels off his Spider-Man suit, hating the feeling of the sweat on his body. He wishes, more than anything, that he was at home taking a shower. 

After putting on his supplied t-shirt and pajama pants, he thanks God that there’s drawstrings, which he pulls tight and ties. He’s absolutely swimming in Wade’s clothes. Peter is significantly smaller than the other man. Peter is built like a gymnast— small and lean. He clocks in at 5’ 7” just barely, whereas Wade is well over 6 feet tall. Not to mention, Wade has incredibly defined muscles, and is absolutely built like a house. Regardless, Peter is thankful for the drawstrings, as his lithe waist would otherwise make him at risk of flashing the other male. 

Peter takes off his mask, and looks in the mirror. He’s a little more beat up than he originally thought. He’s got a split lip, and a black eye.  _ The pain of the gunshot wound must have detracted from all the other bumps and bruises _ , Peter thinks. 

He rummages around for the first aid kit, but can’t seem to find it, which Peter finds odd. 

Not even thinking twice about it, Peter emerges from the restroom, sans mask, and asks, “Hey Wade? Where’s your first aid kit?”

Wade, currently sitting on the couch, jumps up to assist, and bites his lip as he eyes Peter. He groans exaggeratedly and says, “Baby boy! Who gave you a right to be even  _ cuter _ than I thought you could be?”

Peter cocks his head to the side, before realizing his grave mistake. “Fucking hell...” he says. “I- Fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! One more chapter left to wrap this one up! The much raunchier sequel is done, as well as two more one shots. I'll keep updating every Tuesday and Friday, so stay tuned. :)


	4. Chapter 4

“I can pretend I never saw you. I’m surprisingly good at doing things like that, I swear,” Wade offers. 

“No... no. The damage is done. We might as well make this official. Hi, I’m Peter Parker,” he says as he holds out an outstretched hand.

Wade shakes it gleefully. “So all those years ago— those amazing shots of Spider-Man in the Daily Bugle were selfies. Get out!”

“Wait... you paid attention to that? Why? My name was so small in that paper I don’t see how you could.” 

“How could I not? Peter Parker takes the most amazing pictures of your ass! Which... oh  _ god _ I can’t imagine the lucky girl that gets to see your sexy mirror selfies. You must send her pictures of your ass, right?” he asks excitedly. 

“Woah. There’s no she, or he, or they, or anybody for that matter. I’ve been single for like nine years, dude.” 

“I’m sorry, Peter, but literally how is that possible?” Wade asks before retrieving the first aid kit. 

“What do you mean?”

“Look at you!!” Wade gestures to Peter’s entire frame. “You’re drop dead gorgeous??”

Peter blushes profusely, wishing he still had the mask to cover it up. 

“Wow, I’m rude. My name is Wade Winston Wilson. We’re alliteration buddies!” he exclaims. 

Wade sets the first aid kit on the kitchen counter, and dons another pair of nitrile gloves. “It’s gonna sting again, baby boy,” he says as he opens up an alcohol swab.

“Oh... you don’t need to do this for me. I can disinfect my own lip...” Peter says. 

“Nah, I got it Pete.” Wade may or may not be using it as an excuse to get closer to Peter, but he didn’t need to know that. “Ready?” Wade asks.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Peter replies.

Peter looks up at Wade so the taller man has easier access to the afflicted top lip. Wade rests one hand on Peter’s shoulder, and gently wipes at the split with the swab, making sure that no debris is going to harm Peter. Peter winces a little at the initial contact, prompting Wade to say in a hushed tone, “Sorry, baby boy.”

After a moment, Wade stops wiping and says just as hushed, “There. You’ll be good as new soon.” 

“Hey, Wade?” Peter asks.

“Yeah, Pete?”

“Is it counterproductive to what you just did if I kiss you...?” he asks boldly.

“What?” Wade asks, as if he’s not hearing him correctly.

Losing confidence by the second, Peter continues on, “Y-Ya know, since it’s our first date and all.”

Wade, knowing he did hear him correctly after all, wipes his own lips with another swab and doffs the gloves quickly. “Not counterproductive anymore, Peter. I’d say we’re good to go.”

Peter and Wade kiss almost immediately after the words leave Wade’s mouth. Tentative, searching at first, but Wade isn’t a shy man, and quickly makes it a point to dominate the kiss. Wade holds onto Peter tight, almost as if he lets go, he’ll realize he’s dreaming and none of this is real. 

After he’s certain it is real life, Wade gives Peter’s butt a firm squeeze, not at all reserved about doing so. Peter moans into Wade’s mouth at the contact. Wade breaks the kiss, taking a moment to admire Peter’s flushed face. 

“How is this happening?” Wade asks mostly to himself. [[This is a fanfic, obviously.]]

“I don’t know how you’re surprised? You’ve been laying the flirting on rather thick the past year. Even before I really knew you, you’d shout obscenities about my ass to me if I was in your general vicinity,” Peter says.

“Okay, but me cat-calling Spider-Man and saying stuff like, ‘hate to see you go but love to watch you leave’ doesn’t really seem like a good segue into  _ this _ ,” Wade emphasizes the word by gesturing to himself, Peter, and back to himself in a rapid fashion. 

Peter laughs at the comment, and rests his head against the taller man’s chest, continuing to embrace him. “Don’t worry about it. It’s happening. There doesn’t have to be a reason why, it just is. We don’t have to worry about putting a label on it or anything either,” Peter offers.

Both of the men, touch starved as they are, just hold each other for the next few minutes. Wade is the one to break the comfortable silence, saying, “I think I promised to feed you, Petey. It’s kind of late, but I think I know a pizza joint around here that delivers until 5:00.” 

Peter, realizing he’s rather hungry, releases his hold just enough so he can look at Wade. “I like everything but anchovies,” he says.

The pair move toward the couch, sitting close. Wade calls and places an order for a supreme pizza and breadsticks. “They’re quoting 45 minutes to an hour. Want to make out on the couch like teenagers?” 

“Honestly more than you know,” Peter replies. 

Wade grins at him, and as quick as he’s got permission from Peter, he pins the younger man to the couch. They’re less desperate now, taking the time to get to know one another. As they kiss and touch, both men find themselves straining against their pants. Peter, especially, finds himself grinding slowly against Wade’s thigh after a while, looking for a little relief. 

Hot and heavy, neither one of them notice the passing of time until they hear a loud knock on the door. They break apart and Peter laughs a little, saying, “I’ll get it, Wade.” 

They disentangle themselves, and Peter pulls out a $100 bill from the envelope Wade gave him with his half of the spoils. Peter greets the pizza delivery guy at the door after trying to discreetly tuck his erection in his waistband. 

“Hey. $28.72, please,” the delivery man says plainly.

Peter hands him the $100 and says, “Keep the change, man.” 

“Haha alright, my guy. Enjoy,” he says as he hands the food to Peter.

Peter sets the pizza on the counter, and Wade stands up to help himself to a couple slices and sticks as well. The pair regroup back on the couch. 

“I’ve got some DVDs if you want,” Wade offers. “Unfortunately, all I have are 10 copies of  _ Notting Hill _ .” 

Peter busts out laughing at this. “Can I please ask why?” 

“A racketeering bust of pirated DVDs, baby boy,” Wade says simply, leaving it at that. 

“Got it,” Peter says with a grin. “I’m good, thanks. Maybe I’ll just play some music on my phone or something instead, yeah?” 

“That actually sounds way, way better. I’ve seen  _ Notting Hill _ so many times I can’t even keep track.” 

The two enjoy the small remainder of their evening cuddled on the couch, and chatting like old friends who haven’t seen each other in a while. Despite knowing each other for so long as Spider-Man and Deadpool, the pair have a lot of catching up to do as Peter and Wade. 

There’s no question about who sleeps where that night. The two fall asleep cuddled on the queen bed, both hopeful for what this means for the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's a wrap! Thanks for tuning in. Sequel should be up on Tuesday, maybe a little earlier if I'm feeling antsy enough. :)

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! This fanfic is complete and in four chapters. Chapters out on Tuesday and Friday, with a much more Explicit sequel in the works.


End file.
